out back, she said that her husband had died last year. The car just sat in the garage because she didn’t drive. She wanted rid of it, but saw that there was an oil spot beneath the car. Then she asked a really telling question. “How much can you give me for it?”

Ouch! She inadvertently laid on me an ethical dilemma boulder about the size of that ‘64 Ford. There I stood… facing an elderly widow, bargaining for an eight-year-old pristine convertible. A thought breached my mind… “Shall I run top up and shady, or top down and open to risk baring my vulnerable pocket book.”

 I immediately remembered what my father would do. He’d bargain

Catacombs Light?

for a little more than a fair price. That was how he was, and that’s how he’d raised his son.

 In thinking about this scene and how I recalled my father’s nature, I am now reminded how we know the essence of God by looking at the saving activities of Jesus, his beloved Son. Though today I know that the woman was truly widowed, little did I  realize the oil was not from a transmission seal. Given what sat before me, however, I chose to follow the example laid out for me by my father. So I paid that woman just a slight bit more than the metallic green car was worth.

 Prepared in detail before I’d arrived, the woman quickly held out the pre-signed title and the deal was immediately done. The following day, I returned to her home. We sat, talked some and drank some coffee together

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The woman who sold the car recalled days gone by… of being courted by a gallant young man in a convertible.

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